


the large print giveth (and the small print taketh away)

by MoragMacPherson



Series: 23 ½ Weeks [3]
Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, POV Carlton Drake, Rimming, but by god i will make it a common tag if it kills me, carlton drake is a manipulative gaslighting sex god, eddie is confused but grateful for the orgasms, this is not a healthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 05:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoragMacPherson/pseuds/MoragMacPherson
Summary: Carlton Drake's usual non-disclosure agreement just isn't going to work with Eddie





	the large print giveth (and the small print taketh away)

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thank you to eisoj5 for being my beta and sounding board.

Carlton Drake has had a long, complicated day. He's very much looking forward to the simplicity that is going to see Eddie. For all of Eddie's flaws— and just thinking about that vast catalogue is enough to make Drake's temples throb a bit harder— he's also oddly soothing to be around, because with Eddie there's never any real question of what he might mean. For the past week, he's meant spectacular sex and questionable hygiene, but after a day of spectrographic analysis reports, failed animal trials, and annoyingly nosy shareholders, Drake is _ready_ for that. 

Maybe after Eddie's had a shower. 

Or maybe _in_ the shower, they haven't tried that yet. 

The thought has the corners of Drake's mouth turned up as he hops up the stairs, grocery sacks in hand, and opens the door. But his smile disappears when he's promptly smacked in the head with a thick document hurled at him by Eddie from the other side of the kitchen. "What the hell?" 

"That's _my_ fucking line," growls Eddie. He takes a swig of his beer. "Was just coming back from the corner store, minding my own damn business, when this evil Billy Corgan-looking motherfucker drags me into the alley, gives me a fucking shovel talk about sleeping with you, tells me I've got until tomorrow to fucking sign this, then basically tells me not to worry about the financial penalties because I'd never live to pay them." He’s stomping around the kitchen and drinking the beer while he rants, picking up various items and appearing to consider throwing them at Drake as well. "Whatever happened to 'you can still be a journalist?' I should have fucking known." 

Drake picks up the document— it is indeed one of his standard non-disclosure agreements, and he thumbs to the back of it— no, Eddie hasn't signed it. According to Treece's report that he'd read on the way over here, Eddie had been coming back from the _liquor store_ — but with Eddie this upset, that doesn't seem like the point he should be arguing about. He lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry one of my security people was rude and overzealous with you, they tend to be better about looking out for my best interests than I am," he says, setting the contract on the counter along with the groceries. 

Eddie glares at him. "And that's it? I'm supposed to be— do you want me to sign it? Because I ain't fucking signing that thing," he says, going into the fridge to grab another beer and not making a single move to help put the groceries away, though he does snatch the bag of Doritos out of Drake's hand when he pulls them out. 

Drake glances at the document. It's the standard one and really it'd be easier if Eddie _would_ just sign it. But now that he thinks about it, there are significant parts of it that he can live without, if it'll make Eddie feel better about their arrangement. "That's fine, I did tell you I wasn't going to interfere with your career when this started." 

"Damn straight you did," says Eddie, licking one orange stained finger. 

Drake has to hold in another sigh because that shouldn't be at all attractive, but they're Eddie's _lips_ and Eddie's fingers, and he could really use those right now with his headache threatening again. 

"What the hell are those?" Eddie asks, pointing at bag of rice and black bean crisps that Drake's setting in the cupboard. 

Drake gives Eddie a small smile as he puts a jug of kombucha into the fridge. "Well, not that you asked, but I had a pretty long day myself, and had the thought it might not be a bad idea to have a couple of things for me here," he says, going to hang the empty bags on the hook by the door. "Is there any chance we could— " 

"Nope," says Eddie with a rather nasty grin on his face. "Evil Billy Corgan told me we couldn't fuck unless I signed it, and I'm not trusting him not to come after me on his own unless _you_ get _him_ to sign an agreement with me saying he won't. That's how you work, right?" he snaps. He grabs the bag of Doritos and his beer and turns to go sit on the couch. 

Drake closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he speaks. "Okay, I understand. But there's a compromise to be had here. It occurs to me that if you do, somehow, go looking into me and write an article about some wild thing that I might have done, it wouldn't really be in _your_ best interest if it came out that we'd been sleeping together the whole time, would it?" 

Eddie pauses chewing and takes another swig of his beer. "Yeah— I'd deal with it, but it— that wouldn't be ideal," he allows, ducking his head. 

Drake nods, grabbing the contract and thumbing through it casually. "So, to calm down my security people and protect your best interests, if I made up a version of this that only prevented you from disclosing our sexual activities, would you be willing to sign that version?" 

Given the way that Eddie's eyes go a little wider, his body leaning in, Drake doesn't really have to wait for his reply, but it's still a bit of a relief when Eddie finally nods. "Yeah. I'd sign that. The sex is pretty good, but it's nothing to write home about," he adds with a crooked toothed grin that is, god help Drake, kind of adorable. 

"Good. Good. I need to borrow your phone." Drake walks over to the couch and holds out his hand. 

Eddie's already handing it over, but he still asks, "What for?" as Drake hits the power button— and of course it's just a swipe to unlock it. 

"I'm a man of action," Drake tells him as he dials in to the general switchboard line for the company and then punches in the extension for Treece's direct line. "Hi there. I'm going to need you to drop my tablet off here as soon as you have a chance. Make sure there's a copy of the standard contract on there, I'm going to make some alterations to it before he signs," he says once Treece picks up. 

To his credit, Treece doesn't even hesitate. "I'll have it right over— shouldn't be more than an hour," he says. "Anything else?" 

Drake glances up at Eddie, who's watching him with obvious interest, the Doritos having been set aside. "And one more thing. If I put you on speaker, will you promise him that there won't be any penalties for letting our arrangement continue as is while I fix the contract?" 

Treece pauses for a moment. "Yeah, I can do that." 

Drake beams. "Fantastic. I'm putting you on speaker right now," he says, holding the phone out. 

"Mr. Brock, if you're there, then you have my word that there won't be any penalties for continuing your arrangement while Mr. Drake fixes your contract," Treece dutifully recites, and even makes it sound heartfelt. Drake's going to have to get him a bonus for this week. 

Eddie blinks a couple of times while Drake thanks Treece and hangs up, finally settling on a smirk. "You really that desperate for this ass?" he says, leaning on the back of the couch. 

Drake sets the unsigned contract on the counter for Treece to retrieve while delivering the tablet before going to kiss the smirk right off of Eddie's infuriating lips. "I told you, I had a really long day," he murmurs when the kiss breaks, sliding one hand down Eddie's side. 

"Mmm, wanna talk about it?" asks Eddie. "We've got time while evil Billy Corgan makes his way over here with your tablet," he says, rubbing his scruff against Drake's cheek. 

Drake shakes his head with a chuckle— he has to admit, Eddie's nickname for Treece is on point. "No, but I do want to fuck you in the shower about it," he purrs, tugging on Eddie's arm. "And evil Billy Corgan has a key and knows better than to disturb me," he says. And— shit, Eddie looks surprised to hear that. Drake's gonna have to smooth that over, whispering a filthy promise into Eddie's ear that makes Eddie turn bright red. 

"Yeah— okay, we can do that, that's— okay," he stammers, scrambling to his feet while Drake grins wolfishly at him. "Here I was, thinking you were going to wait until after I signed your contract to really get your freak on," he says, pulling his shirt off before he even gets in the bathroom. 

"Consider this a sneak peek, if you like," says Drake as he shuts and locks the bathroom door— and Eddie has been better about cleaning the last week, the tub even looks freshly scrubbed. He grabs the bottle of lube that he'd stashed in the medicine cabinet and one of the condoms, setting them on the shower caddy while Eddie finishes stripping, his bare ass a much needed reminder that all of this extra effort is really kind of worth it. "Go on and start the water, I'm right behind you." 

And at least he and Eddie seem to agree that shower water should be steaming hot. "Hope it lasts long enough," says Eddie as Drake steps into the tub, soap and washcloth already in hand as he swipes the cloth between his ass cheeks, which might be the most considerate thing he's ever seen Eddie do. 

Drake grins. "We'll just have to see, I plan on taking my time— here, let me help," he says, taking the bar of soap and washcloth from Eddie and prodding him until he's next to the back wall. "You can put your hands on the tiles— and try not to slip," he says as he diligently scrubs Eddie's back and ass clean, the hot water beating down on his own back and making him feel much more relaxed already. 

"I'll do my best," says Eddie. Drake reaches the washcloth around his front and is pleased to discover he's already hard— apparently he's already gotten comfortable or distracted enough from the concept of Treece having the key, which is just what Drake was hoping for. 

Setting the washcloth aside, Drake kneels and lets the water rinse Eddie clean for a few moments, nuzzling at that lovely round ass for a moment before spreading the cheeks and swiping his tongue along Eddie's hole— it's not the most pleasant act for him, but he can't deny that there's a certain satisfaction in the way that Eddie starts crying out and pounding on the tiles almost immediately. 

And it's not so bad, especially if he makes a bit of a game of it, see just how responsive Eddie can be for him. He reaches up to fondle Eddie's sac as he prods his tongue in a little further, maybe this will… no, not quite the reaction he was hoping for. Undeterred, Drake tries sticking a finger inside of Eddie alongside his tongue, crooking it just so… 

Eddie shrieks even higher pitched, and his babble, which Drake has been mostly ignoring up to now, shifts to some much more appealing begging. "What the— fucking, please, Drake, like that, please, whatever you want— _fuck_!" he gasps out as Drake keeps up the pressure on his prostate and gets him to come without even touching his cock once. 

Drake gets to his feet and turns so that he can wash his mouth out, gargling on the hot water and spitting it out. "You're kind of easy, Brock," he says as he reaches for the lube, giving Eddie's ass a fond pat. "Think you can stay on your feet for me?" he asks idly, not waiting for a reply before pushing a slick finger inside Eddie to prep him— he's already a bit relaxed from the rimming, which helps. 

"Uh—- yeah, I— on my feet, sure, whatever— I can— yes, please," mumbles Eddie, leaning a heavily against the wall, his ass clenching around Drake's fingers— relaxed, yes, but he should still be a pretty fun ride. 

"I've got you, don't worry too much," he assures Eddie as he rolls the condom on. He teases Eddie, brushing the tip of his cock against his hole a few times until Eddie whines. "Just came and you're still that desperate for this cock?" he purrs in Eddie's ear before he finally pushes inside in one smooth thrust, wrapping one arm around his waist to help steady him and pull him back. Drake lets out a long groan: it does feel wonderful to be buried in that tight heat. 

But the water is indeed starting to cool slightly, so he'll have to make this fast— it's fine, it'll take the edge off while he's editing, and then he can have round two after. But for right now, he just goes for broke, pounding hard into Eddie's all too pliant body, his breathy, broken cries mercifully wordless after an orgasm. He still clenches around Drake's cock beautifully when Drake gets the angle just right, just a perfect fucking fit. 

Drake couldn't be happier when he feels Eddie's erection slapping up against his arm after a couple of minutes. "You're just too easy for me, Eddie," he says, speeding up his thrusts and stroking Eddie's cock in time with them, and he even manages to hold on until Eddie's coming for him again— oh, fucking Eddie is very much worth all this extra effort. His own cries of pleasure are drowned out by Eddie's, and then they're both slumped up against the wall, catching their breaths. 

The water's gone all but tepid, but it's still adequate to get them both cleaned up. Eddie's barely awake anyway, and Drake winds up sitting him on the toilet to dry him off. "I'm not carrying you to bed," says Drake before he starts brushing his teeth, chuckling at Eddie's guttural acknowledgement. 

By the time he's finished with the mouthwash, Eddie's managed to stumble out of the bathroom, presumably into the bedroom— yes, that's the lump of him on the bed when Drake tosses his clothes into the hamper. He notes with approval that the sheets he's curled up on are the ones he'd had delivered a few days ago. 

When Drake goes to the kitchen he finds his tablet on the island, and the other NDA gone, presumably shredded because Treece is reliably competent. Drake grabs a glass of kombucha too, then heads back to the bedroom, sitting up against the headboard to get to work. Eddie starts snoring lightly after a bit, but stops with just a quick prod, so it's not even in the running for his least attractive feature. 

Drake's only made it through the first ten pages of the non-disclosure agreement when Eddie rouses from his slumber. "Oh— you— you're still here," he says as he rolls over to face him, scrubbing at his face with his hand. "You don't— you're still here," he repeats. 

"And here I thought I'd fucked you senseless, but your powers of observation remain astonishing," says Drake, taking a sip of his kombucha before turning his attention to the next sub-paragraph. "You've only been out for about twenty minutes, I've still got a lot of contract to work through," he adds. 

Eddie rolls off the bed. "Well, don't let me stop you," he says, and Drake glances up when he hears a drawer pulled open, because he's not going to pass up any opportunity to ogle Eddie's ass, not when he's working so hard for it. But he makes sure he's looking down at his tablet again after Eddie's finished pulling a pair of boxers on and turns towards him. 

"Something wrong?" he asks after a few moments, looking up to see Eddie just staring at him. 

Eddie waves a hand. "No, no— nothing wrong, think I just need something to eat," he says, heading back out to the kitchen. 

Drake can hear him thumping and going through cabinets for a few minutes while he continues to work. There's a loud crinkling, and then a crunching. "What the fuck even are these? Gluten-free, dairy-free, flavor-free— feels like I'm eating fucking air," says Eddie, leaned up against the doorjamb as he pops another one of the rice and black bean crisps into his mouth. 

Drake turns a sunny smile up at Eddie. "If you don't like them, then you can just stop eating them. I didn't get them for you, I got them for me," he says, sighing and waving his hand when Eddie offers the bag to him. "And I didn't get them for in bed," he says pointedly. 

Eddie shrugs. "All right, then," he says, wandering off again. He returns a few minutes later with his laptop and stretches out next to Drake, scrolling through a couple of reddit threads before he clears his throat. "So— you bought me new sheets, you've got a toothbrush here, you've got groceries here— Carlton Drake, are you moving in with me?" he asks, crooked tooth grin still charming but not half as charming as he thinks. 

Drake shakes his head. "Eddie, just go ahead and google my house, _Wired_ did a very nice write up on it a couple years ago, and hell, you've actually _been_ there before." 

The grin doesn't waver at all. "So you're not? Moving in, that is, because this feels like you're moving in," he says. 

Drake lets the tablet fall to his lap so he can pinch the bridge of his nose. "Do you want me to finish rewriting this or not, because those last two orgasms can be the last two I ever give you," he says. 

Eddie holds up his hands. "All right, all right— I'll stop bugging you," he says, looking a bit confused when Drake holds the tablet in front of his face, trying not to blink. "Is it broken?" 

Drake shakes his head as he punches in the keycode. "No, it's secure. Facial recognition biometric and a keycode any time it's idle for more than thirty seconds. Unlike some people you've slept with, I actually secure my confidential data when I'm sharing space with an investigative journalist," he says, and _that_ seems to finally shut Eddie up for awhile. 

Drake's very nearly done with his first pass on the contract when Eddie speaks up again. "So— I mean— I know I've said things like this before, but I'm— this isn't something I've ever done before, and you're still kind of a dick to me, so— I gotta ask, why are you working so hard for this, whatever the hell it is?" he asks. 

Drake sets the tablet down on his lap. "Science has never really adequately explained how attraction works. Pheromones? Maybe in part. But it's— human sexuality is, in large part, a stochastic system. So none of us— not you, not me— we don't know why it is that we want the people that we want. I decided long ago that it wasn't worth it, fighting that…" and his voice trails off because that's _it_. 

The problems that they're having with the symbiote hosts. It's got to be about a particular form of compatibility— the logs from the ship had shown them remaining alive and in a single host far longer than any of the ones they've used in the lab. Maybe the mice just aren't complex enough, they'll have to move to something bigger, trying a wider range of hosts until— 

"Drake? You still there?" asks Eddie, snapping his fingers, and Drake can't help but grin at him and pull him in for a long, hungry kiss. 

"I'm fine. Great, even. Sudden bit of inspiration— but nothing that can't wait until morning," he says, caressing the side of Eddie's face. "It's— all you need to know is that I really am attracted to you and that I take care of the things that matter to me," he adds, setting the tablet on the nightstand before turning back to Eddie. "In fact, I'm just about done with the contract, and I'm kind of ready to take care of you again," he murmurs, stroking his thumb along Eddie's lower lip. "You willing to let me take care of you for the third time tonight?" 

Eddie's throat works for a moment, but humans are wonderfully, stupidly predictable. "Yeah, I could go for that," says Eddie, and Drake manages to kiss him before he can ruin the moment by saying anything else.


End file.
